Flying Colors...

I've never really looked in the mirror and seen an overprotective mom staring back at me. After this weekend this outlook is starting to morph.

Right about the time I hit the "post" button on my last blog my gal started to deteriorate again (and why wouldn't she--as I am starting to find, stating anything out loud or in written form seems to be an omen that things will very shortly be going the exact opposite of the public display) So while I was boasting health and prosperity she was trying to sleep off one hell of fever. And being that this girl has literally never gotten hotter than 100 degrees it had me worried. The sleeping started Friday and only got worse as the day progressed. With the sleep came the heat and by days end she was at 102.

Saturday turned into further deterioration which was the continued fever, water hinder and still more sleep. She slept more than she was awake and would miserably roll around while roused. She insisted that we carry her because walking hurt and she stated that she just wasn't able to do it. The worry started to rise. Soo not my daughter. She hadn't eaten all day and by afternoon she was talking non-sense, asking odd questions and just generally not putting together any cohesive thoughts. When I stuck the thermometer in her ear and saw the reading of 104 coupled with her writhing stomach pain & unabated crying I just couldn't watch any longer. The fever was no longer responding to the Advil and I really didn't know what else to do. The advice line suggested the ER and I was actually relieved that I could put the diagnosis with someone who actually knew about these kinds of things. The words "emergency room" did send a quick chill up my spine as I have never heard anything good about them. Insane wait times, lots of germs, a bunch of red tape...not really my idea of a Saturday night but I was desperate.

Hubba went to put the gals socks on to ready her for the trip and you would have thought that he had struck her with a sledge hammer. She kicked her feet in rebellion and moaned "Whaaat are you doooing!?!?" As in--"Are you CRAZY!? Can't you see I'm dyin' over here?!" I then told her that we had to go to the hospital so she could see a doctor and she begrudgingly calmed down and allowed the socks. I packed up a puke bowl in the diaper bag and headed out. Luckily the local ER is a quick 10 minutes from the house so the car trip wasn't too big of a deal.

When we got there I carried her in donning only socks and her Paul Frank jammies. The woman that checked us in was very understanding. I was expecting heaps of forms and paper work to fill out with my not-so-spare hand and oddly all that was needed was a signature and she let us sit down, stating there was only one person in front of us. We weren't there 5 minutes and the mini fell asleep in my arms, like a large 40 pound baby. She was so hot that I began to sweat too simply from holding my human space heater. About 15 minutes into it we were seen. She was appropriately drugged (albeit literally gagging down the meds) and we were sent to a room. I had no idea when you went to the ER you got your own room! I was exceedingly impressed with this experience. It was feeling more like a hotel stay than a trip to the hospital! We got her all gowned-up and the doctor was in within minutes. He stated we needed to give a "sample." Oh joy! Being that it was a literal act of Congress to get this kid to go to the bathroom at home I started stressing at how I was going to manage coercing her to do it in the hospital. Evidently there is power in saying "the doctor said..." because this girl sat over those little hats and produced precisely what was asked in a matter of moments. Now all we had to do was wait for the results...

In the meantime I made a call home to the Hubba to inform him of what was going on. After giving him the scoop he leisurely slides into the conversation with "Well, Chase just puked all over his crib so whatever they give you for her tell them to send home double!" Sweet Jesus, are you kidding me? Precisely 3 hours earlier I had texted my sister regarding how odd/concerning it was that my boy showed no signs of this (yet another mark in the "gotta go" column of the situation.) Her exact words back "Don't jinx it!" I had officially considered this situation jinxed. The Hubba explained that he had hosed off both the bedding and the boy and he was back to sleep but that our weekend was only starting and it was 9PM on Saturday! Awesome!

After about 4 hours the doc finally came back with the results. I informed him of the boy's situation and he said "Goood!" I must have given him the "Are you f*%#ing crazy?" face as he quickly apologized for the fact that we were going to have to deal with 2 exploding kids but the presence of illness in someone else in the house indicated flu as opposed to his former belief that the gal might be responding poorly to her antibiotics. This is one of those times in life where I was forced to see the silver lining against my every grain of being. It was, however, promising that in the 4 hours we had been there the magic potion of medications they had given her upon admittance had done wonders in bringing down her fever. This was a very expensive lesson for me and the lesson here is this: Advil does NOT solve every ail on the planet. I was operating under the assumption that fever relief was fever relief. Oh how little I know about life (and medicine!) Evidently I should have been trying Tylenol too. Seriously!? I had NO idea. This is one of the many times I miss having the ability to just call my mom. Honestly, it just never even occurred to me. Thank you for not openly laughing at me and not pointing fingers (although I am sure, secretly you are doing so.) Five hours and $250 later we were allowed to go home--fancy hotel, huh? :)

Sunday met us with a whole new light. Lots less fever, ability to walk, talk, function, no more day sleeps, a bit of food and lots of orange juice. Do I hear laughter? Well, I suppose I should. Why on EARTH would you give a sick kid orange juice? The answer to that is simple--she asked for it. But you are the parent and you should KNOW better. Well, after seeing orange juice projectile vomited across the living room floor I now know better. Dense, gullible, naive, stupid--all worthy adjectives for me in this situation. All I know is I am getting better at reading the non-verbal cues of a potentially vomitous child and I am re-learning rules that I was taught long ago on that damn trial and error scale once again. Why do I always have to do it the hard way? As though somehow the rules don't apply to me and my kids and it will make sense if I break these rules because we are "different." This thinking drives me crazy and has notably gotten me in much trouble over the years! All I can say is I am working on it and awareness is the first step, right?

So today the cleaning rampage continues. Is it just me or does having the stomach flu hit your house make you want to just burn it down and start from scratch? There is just not enough bleach to cure this kind of gross. After a half a bottle I'm still not satisfied with the cleanliness factor. It feels like everything I touch is contaminated with the plague. I can't seem to wash my hands often enough and I am laundering everything that has been worn, touched or even looked at in the last 4 days. Just when I think we are on the "other side of it", like earthquake aftershocks, another wave hits and the cleaning frenzy starts anew. Now begins the countdown...when will the adults of the house get this? It was briefly mentioned last night before drifting off to sleep but I thought better of an extended conversation of it because of the aforementioned "jinx." I spent the 1st hour of the morning holding a trash can for the girl so she is clearly not over it. Have yet to change a "soup diaper" for the boy so there is hope on that front. Looks like another day of Kid TV and another wake of television detox following this calamity.

I will say that with all of the ailing around her I've gotten a lot more love than normal. After any particularly horrific episode for the fe-mini she ends it with "Mom, I love you so much!" I guess in her time over on the dark side she is feeling appreciative that I haven't deserted her; or maybe she is hallucinating. The boy has been leaps and bounds more snuggly which I can't complain about. So I guess there is some more silver lining to this whole situation. It's the tough times that bring us closer. It's the time when we learn who is fair weather and who is in it for the long haul. As much as we hate to have these experiences they are nonetheless bonding and telling ones. We learn about real trust, unconditional love and the level of commitment our loved ones have to us. That being said, being sick may be one of the first tests our kids put us through to prove our love as anyone willing to hold your hair back while you puke is obviously a soul mate, right? If that is the case I have officially passed this one with flying colors!